"Vote for Pedro and all your wildest dreams will come true!"

Rory and I spent the evening at home together while Mom and the other two kids were out and about. She lay in my arms, remarkably calm, while I waded through TV channels searching for something to catch my eye. There are a handful of movies that I will stop on, no matter how many times I've seen them, no matter what point they are at, and despite the fact that they might be readily available on Netflix or on DVD somewhere in the house. This evening it was Napoleon Dynamite, the quirky story about a weird high-schooler living in small-town Idaho, surrounded by an equally eccentric band of outcasts. Tonight, as I watched the final throes of this movie once again, I couldn't help but feel a parallel between the title character and my very own infant daughter.

Near the end of the movie [spoiler alert!], the kid lays it all on the line and puts his own shame aside to help a friend in need. After performing a dance that could easily rival Michael Jackson's Thriller video for cinematic and choreographic greatness, he runs off the stage, humiliated as the crowd sits motionless in shock and awe. After a moment of hesitation, the auditorium erupts into deafening applause, and the tempo of the movie immediately changes from one of conflict and challenge, to hope and optimism. From that moment on, everyone around Napoleon seems to attain the happiness that was somehow eluding their lives. I've seen this movie probably a dozen times or so. But when that audience burst into cheers, I was right there with them. My heart leapt, and I wanted to stand up and scream, "you did it!". And then I realized it was not Napoleon's defeat of adversity I wanted to exclaim, but Rory's.

It was only in that instant, caught off guard and alone with my baby girl, that I dared consider she just might be past all of this. It's been quite a while since the last post, I know. But there really hasn't been much to tell. The manometry study never happened, with CHOC doctors seeming to dismiss it's criticality and indicating they wanted to wait until she was at least a year before proceeding. Meanwhile, we continued to do what we do, which is to say, Christine continued to do what she does. Rory's had her ups and downs, sometimes having BM's several days in a row, and sometimes going several days without (that's bowel movements, for those of you with more refined sensibilities). We were instructed to apply the dilations as needed, but with less and less frequency, and to keep on track for those milestones typical of normal kids. Target milestones, like eating solid foods, may be exciting achievements for most parents, but they are deeply distressing for the parents of a baby who's bowels don't seem to work properly. We really had no idea how solids would pass through her.

But I can report that she is eating like a champ. And she's been passing it like a champ, too. I can't say for sure, but it's almost as if the solids navigate her system better than the liquid diet of a 0-6 month old. Either that, or her bowel has finally matured, her brain has finally started to communicate with her rectum, her physical mobility helps things move along properly, or the power of prayer is in the process of healing her. You take your pick, I have mine. And yes, I did say mobility. Rory began crawling just around Christmas time, now she pulls herself up on everything and stands on her own two feet for several seconds before realizing what she's doing and falling on her butt. There's another possibility for the skeptics out there! Perhaps the constant jarring of her rump each time she falls has loosened the muscle a bit. Whatever the corrective measure, we are thrilled with how she's coming along. Enough so, that I dare to think the worst could be behind her, that she may have beaten this thing. As always, only time will tell, but it remains on our side. Rory is fast approaching 9 months old and so far we've avoided return trips to the ER, Botox injections, ileostomies, and invasive corrective surgeries for things we're not even sure are the problem. Not too bad.

I voted for Pedro, and I think all my wildest dreams may be coming true.